


An Extra Brandy

by Daylight



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Action, Angst, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daylight/pseuds/Daylight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason the Brigadier always leaves out an extra brandy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Extra Brandy

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Gen Battle on Dreamwidth for the prompt Eleventh Doctor & Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, BAMFs, brandy, partying, random TARDIS trips

Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, former brigadier, former head of the British division of UNIT, former special envoy, and many other things, reached for the bottle of brandy on the side table and poured himself a large glass. Once done, he hesitated a moment, and then pulled out a second glass and poured another. He had a strange feeling it would be needed.

He was just taking his first sip when the door to his room burst open and in entered a young man wearing a tweed jacket and a blue bowtie. He was a skinny and gangly man with wild, brown hair and a narrow face bearing a big nose and a bigger chin. Most notably though were his eyes which were currently wide with panic.

“You have to hide me,” he cried frantically.

Alistair smiled a somewhat amused smile. “I’d love to. I’m rather short on space at the moment, but if you can find somewhere…” He gestured to their surroundings.

It wasn’t a particularly big room though it was one of the largest at the facility and finely furnished and decorated. What space it had was currently occupied by a double bed, a couple of large comfy armchairs (one of which he was currently using), some small side tables, a widescreen television, a cluttered oak desk, a mahogany chest of drawers, and a wardrobe.

The man immediately headed for the wardrobe. Unfortunately, the wardrobe was rather full and not just with clothes. There were quite a few things packed in there, a lot of silly memorabilia, knick-knacks and things Alistair knew he should get rid of but had never quite been able to. There definitely wasn’t room for a person in there. 

The man tried anyway and actually managed to get most of himself inside. Unfortunately, a lone foot was left dangling out making it impossible to shut the door.

“It’s no good,” he said stumbling out again. He shot an anxious look at the door. 

“How ‘bout under the bed?” Alistair suggested.

“Good thinking,” said the man and he dived on to the floor. By flattening himself out as best he could, he was just able to squeeze himself into the small space beneath the bed.

It was just in time too, because as soon as the last of him had disappeared, the door burst open again.

This time three people entered the room, though people may not have been the right word. They were humanoid but their skin was blue with a slight opalescent shimmer to it and their limbs were just a bit too long. They had long tangles of black hair and wore white robes. They also had giant guns which they were currently pointing right at Alistair’s head.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” he said politely but sternly. “And lady,” he added after taking a closer look. He was pretty sure the one in the middle was a woman.

“Where is he?” she demanded, taking a step forward still brandishing her weapon in his direction.

The former brigadier didn’t so much as blink. “Who are you looking for?” he simply asked, casually placing his hand on the walking stick that leaned against his chair.

“The ancient child,” she said. “The insane one who dances amongst the stars with Lady Death and Father Time.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows. “May I ask why you are looking for him?”

“He has brought chaos to our world.”

“And how exactly did he do that?”

“He took down the Grabblebanash, the being who has ruled us and cruelly kept us enslaved for centuries. He exiled our overlord to another dimension and set us free.”

“I see…” said Alistair. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t you be grateful to this man for ridding you of the Gabbleba… the Grubbleben… the… your former overlord?”

The blue-skinned woman drew her shoulders back as if affronted. “Of course, we are grateful. He has done what many of us have long dreamed of.”

“Then why on Earth are you perusing him as if he just made off with your youngest daughter?”

“He has yet to complete his task,” the alien explained. “The one who overthrows the overlord must take his place as our leader.”

“Ah,” said Alistair nodding in understanding. “I’m sure he appreciates the offer, but you see he’s not really the overlord type.”

“But this is our way. This is how it is done. We explained this to him and then he ran off in the middle of the wedding ceremony.”

Alistair’s eyebrows rose again. “I’m sorry. Wedding ceremony?”

“He was to marry us.”

Alistair cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure you’re a very lovely woman, but…”

“Not me,” she said shaking her head. “Us.”

“What? All three of you?” said he with a frown glancing at the male aliens on either side of her, both of whom still had their guns trained on him.

“No. All of us.” She spoke as if trying to get her point across to a particularly slow toddler. “The overlord must marry all of our people. That is how it is done.”

It was not possible for Alistair’s eyebrows to go any higher. He decided it was high time he had another sip of brandy and gratefully brought the glass to his lips. He wondered if he should offer any to the aliens, but decided against it. For all he knew, it could poison them and cause a major intergalactic incident.

“Have you ever considered going without an overlord?” he asked.

The aliens stared at him as if he’d just said something blasphemous. 

“That’s not how…” the woman began.

“…it’s done,” he finished for her. “Yes, I know. But do you really want him as your overlord? The ancient child, as you called him.”

“He’s the one,” she said. “He will lead us to greatness, bring order back to our world.”

The former brigadier let out a chuckle. “I have known this man for a very, very long time, and let me tell you order is not a thing he brings anywhere.”

The alien cocked her head to the side. “He would not restore order?”

Alistair shook his head. “Far from it. That man enjoys chaos. It’s his natural habitat. He revels in it as they say.”

She frowned. “But as our overlord it would be up to him to set the rules.”

“He hates rules. Did I mention that? He also questions everything, seldom listens.”

There may have been a slight sound of protest from under the bed, but thankfully the aliens didn’t notice.

“He is constantly going where he isn’t wanted, loves to upset the status quo, interferes in everyone’s business, never stays in one place for too long, and finds trouble wherever he goes.”

The alien’s expressions grew more and more uncertain as he spoke.

Finally, one of the men turned to the woman and said, “Perhaps this is something we should discuss with the rest of our people.”

“We would not want to risk more upset,” said the other.

The woman slowly nodded, a troubled look on her face. “It might be best if we hold off on the ceremony until we are sure there isn’t a better alternative, one that might be more suitable for our people.”

“Good thinking,” said Alistair. “Wouldn’t want to do something you might regret later.” He took another sip of brandy. “Oh, did I mention that a lot of things tend to get destroyed and blown up when he’s around?”

The aliens turned a slightly paler shade of blue.

“We must leave,” said the woman. “Immediately.”

They quickly backed out of the room.

“Sorry for disturbing you,” said one of the men as he closed the door.

Alistair waited a few seconds and then said, “Really, the sort of trouble you get into.”

A head popped out from under the bed, wild hair in complete disarray. “It’s not my fault,” he protested. “How was I supposed to know overthrowing their old leader would automatically make me their new one. It’s not like they had it written down in the visitor’s guide. I’ve overthrown plenty of leaders in my time and that’s never happened before. Well, maybe once or twice, but never involving a mass wedding. That’s definitely the biggest wedding I’ve ever run away from. Still not sure how I was supposed to kiss all one hundred thousand brides and grooms.”

He clambered out from under the bed as he spoke dusting off his jacket and settling his hair into a style which was slightly less manic. 

Alistair shook his head. “Only you, Doctor. Only you,” he said with a smile.

A giant grin lit up the Doctor’s face. “Brigadier,” he said fondly. “How’d you know it was me?”

“As if it could be anyone else. Besides how could I not know you? How many bodies have I seen you wear now?”

The Doctor held up a hand. “Best not answer that. It’s entirely possible that you’ve seen more of my incarnations than I have.” He fell into the armchair next to Alistair, long limbs sprawled haphazardly across it. “How’ve you been? Keeping UNIT on its toes? Thwarted many alien invasions?”

“Not quite, Doctor. I’m taking things a bit slower these days.”

“Nonsense,” said the Doctor. “Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart slowing down? Nothing slows down Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. Look how you talked those aliens down. You’ll be fighting off Zygons and Yetis for years yet.” 

“Doctor…” Alistair began, but was quickly interrupted.

“The unstoppable Brigadier, proud protector of the Earth, standing between it and all who threaten her.” There was a slight desperate edge in the Doctor’s voice, as if he was trying to fight off time itself with his words.

“Doctor…” Alistair tired again.

“I know what we should do. Let’s take a quick trip in the Tardis, find a party somewhere, celebrate my close escape from mega-matrimony. I know this planet where they have glowing fruit and all the orchards look like they’re hung with paper lanterns. Every year they…”

Alistair placed a hand on the Doctor’s and the Time Lord finally became quiet. “You do know what this place is, don’t you?” the former brigadier said softly. 

Looking away, the Doctor nodded. 

It would be hard not to notice what this place was what with all the nurses walking the corridors and the incredibly large amount of white haired people gathered together. Alistair’s hair and beard were also quite white and he didn’t have the heart to tell the Doctor that not only couldn’t he go off on an adventure, but without the nurses’ help, he could barely even manage to get out of his chair.

“I hate endings,” the Doctor said morosely.

Alistair patted his hand and smiled at him. “I’ve had a good life, Doctor, better for having you in it, and it’s not quite over yet,” he said. “And maybe in some ways, for you, it never will be.”

The Doctor looked at him, his ancient eyes holding the sadness of the universe.

“Come now,” said the former brigadier. “Have a brandy.” He gestured to the extra glass on the side table. 

The Doctor picked up the glass and stared uncertainly at its contents. “Do I like brandy?”

“Try it.”

Throwing back the glass, the Doctor drank the entire thing in one go. His face twisted and contorted into a sour expression, and then relaxed. “Actually, that’s not bad,” he said staring wonderingly at the now empty glass. 

“Glad to hear it,” said Alistair. “Now how ‘bout I pour us both another while you tell me exactly how you overthrew this Grobblene… Grebblena… whatever.”

Grinning, the Doctor began telling his tale, his hands gesticulating wildly as the Brigadier listened contently sipping his brandy.


End file.
